The Music Box (47 page)

“Then we’ll both be there to supply it,” Bryce interrupted swiftly.

“No, we’ll
all
be there to supply it,” Thane amended, handing the incriminating ledgers to Webster. “Between the three of us and Mr. Smythe here, I think we can put Averley away for the rest of his life.”

“Put him away?” Dawes scowled at his prisoner. “Hell, he’d better hope you’re feeling generous. With what you told me, you could ensure he hangs.”

“No.” Gaby marched forward, her arms folded across her chest to still the uncontrollable shudders racking her body. “There’s been enough killing already. Please—no more. Just throw him in prison.” Her voice broke. “And make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

“We will, ma’am,” Dawes assured her. “You have my word.” He and Webster led Averley from the room.

“Gaby?” Bryce was beside her in a heartbeat. He drew her into his arms, holding and warming her all at once. “You were astounding. Are you all right?”

She nodded, feeling her husband’s love pervade her, obliterate the darkness of the past hour. “Bryce?” she whispered, her voice muffled by his waistcoat.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“It’s over. Do you remember what you promised we’d do the minute it was over?”

A profound smile curved his lips. “Indeed I do.” He tilted up her chin, kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Come, Wonderland. Let’s go home.”

“S
CREECH IS ANNOYED,” GABY
announced.

Grinning, Bryce cradled his wife’s warm body against his, very much aware of the distinctly sated, unconcerned tone of her voice. “So I hear—and have been hearing since five
A.M.
” He shifted a bit, drawing the bedcovers up over them in an attempt to shut out the new day—and the unrelenting shriek of Gaby’s woodpecker.

Laughing softly, Gaby kissed the damp column of Bryce’s throat. “He’s still not accustomed to the fact that I have new sleeping quarters.”

“Or how much time you spend in them.” Bryce rolled Gaby beneath him, wanting nothing more than to sink deeper into his wife and make love to her the entire day.

“Ummm.” Gaby sighed contentedly, twined her arms about Bryce’s neck. “He’ll get over it. He’ll have to. Just as I’ve gotten over my sleepwalking.”

“Those episodes are gone forever, just as I predicted,” Bryce proclaimed, feeling utterly smug and thoroughly aroused. “Although you do sleep even fewer hours now than you did before.”

“Fewer, perhaps, but sounder,” Gaby reminded him. “My slumber has been heavenly—deep, dreamless, perfect. It’s brief, only because staying awake is infinitely more exhilarating, just as I imagined it would be.” Gaby shivered as the hardening of her husband’s body inside hers made his intentions clear. “Do we have time?” she breathed, already lifting her hips to his.

“We’ll make time.” Bryce withdrew, then pressed deeper, penetrating her in exquisite increments of pleasure.

“But it’s nearly nine o’clo—Oh, Bryce.” Gaby whimpered as he withdrew again, then reentered her in one deep, inexorable thrust.

“We’ll dress quickly.” His voice was thick, husky with passion. “You did ask me to be impulsive, did you not?”

“Yes.” She wrapped her legs around him. “Absolutely, yes.”

“Good.” He groaned, his control shattering as she melted and tightened around him all at once. “God, Gaby.” He gave in to the wildness, cupping her bottom, dragging her up to meet the frenzied motions of his hips, plunging into her again and again. “I couldn’t stop … if I tried.”

“Don’t try.” Gaby was about to break apart, everything inside her coiled, poised, waiting. “Bryce …”

“Now … right now,” he rasped, melding their loins for one fierce, unendurable instant.

They shattered together, dissolving into a thousand brilliant fragments of sensation, clinging to each other as the passion peaked, then ebbed, banking into the wondrous aftermath that was as magical as the minutes preceding it.

“I love you,” Gaby breathed, her limbs sinking weakly to the bed.

“Each moment, each day, I fall in love with you all over again,” Bryce murmured, kissing her soft, parted lips. “But that’s the miracle of Wonderland.”

Gaby lifted her lashes, and the look she gave him was filled with aching tenderness. “
One
of the miracles of Wonderland,” she corrected. “You, my darling husband, provide quite a few of your own.”

A stampede of footsteps intruded on their privacy.

“Gaby?” Lily knocked soundly on the door. “Are you and Mr. Lynd—I mean Bryce—still asleep? Chaunce said we should leave you alone. But I knew you wouldn’t want that. ʼCause the vicar will be here in a half hour for—you know, the rehearsal.”

One glance at the clock, which now read nine-thirty, confirmed Lily’s announcement.

“We’re awake, Lily.” Gaby was already scrambling out of bed. “We’re just …” Frantically, she searched for an excuse.

“We’re just late,” Bryce supplied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “But we’ll be there in plenty of time. I promise.”

“Oh, good.” Lily sounded thoroughly relieved. “Did you hear that?” she declared to whoever else was with her. “They’re just late. Let’s go wait for them in the chapel.”

The stampede of footsteps resumed, then faded away.

“We’re just late?” Gaby repeated, as she hastened toward the bathroom. “Is that the most original excuse you could conjure up?”

Bryce’s eyes twinkled. “Not original, but incredibly fitting. I borrowed it from Alice’s white rabbit.”

The chapel was in chaos when Gaby and Bryce arrived.

Marion and Ruth were whispering in the rear, repeating the wedding vows aloud in the hope of learning them. Along the right side of the room Goodsmith and Wilson paced up and down, muttering nervously about rings and the proper time to lift the bride’s veil for a kiss.

The rest of the staff was rushing from one end of the chapel to the other, alternately calming down the grooms and reassuring the brides.

In the center of the room, Chaunce was conducting a card game with the children to keep them occupied, and at the altar, Hermione was conversing with Vicar Kent, probably seeking the help of some higher being to ease the hysteria that pervaded the chapel.

“We haven’t missed anything, have we?” Gaby asked brightly.

“No, no, of course not.” Vicar Kent smiled down at them from his sanctified position. “Although I do wish your aunt wouldn’t worry so much. It isn’t good for her health.”

Hermione frowned. “My health is fine, Vicar. I’m simply upset that four people I happen to love, each of whom adores his or her betrothed, are getting married tomorrow and are distraught rather than excited about the nuptials.”

“Still,” Bryce observed, “Vicar Kent is right. You really shouldn’t become so overwrought. Think of how weak you’ve been.”

“Actually, Aunt Hermione has been much better these past weeks,” Gaby informed her husband. “Why, I haven’t seen Chaunce fetch her medicine once, have you?”

“Now that you mention it, no.”

Chaunce and Hermione exchanged glances.

“Dr. Briers doesn’t feel I need as many doses as I once did,” Hermione explained. “Evidently I’m regaining my strength.”

“How wonderful!” Gaby said, her entire face aglow.

“Indeed it is,” Bryce concurred. “To what does Dr. Briers attribute your recovery? Whatever it is, we’ll have to ensure you receive more of it.”

A loud wail from Ruth interrupted their conversation.

“Ruth, what is it?” Hermione asked, hurrying over.

“Oh, ma’am, I don’t know what to do,” Ruth replied, wringing her hands. “I love Wilson so much, but I just know I’m going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and embarrass him.”

“You?” Wilson bellowed from the other side of the room. “It’s me who’s goin’ to ruin things. I’m not used to speakin’ my mind to anyone but a shovel. And you’re too precious to stutter even one word to.”

“I’ve whipped this ring out of my pocket a dozen times,” Goodsmith announced. “And I drop it each time. What kind of bridegroom drops his bride’s ring?”

“And I trip every time I practice walking down the aisle,” Marion chimed in. “I’m convinced I’m going to knock the vicar over and land at George’s feet.”

“Please, all of you, stop.” Hermione waved away their complaints, pulling her petite form up in that remarkably regal way she had. “You’re all just nervous. That’s perfectly natural. But I don’t want—”

“What in the name of heaven is going on in here?” Thane demanded, stepping inside the chapel. “I came to attend a wedding rehearsal. Instead, I’m walking into a brawl. What’s the matter?”

Four overwrought voices began explaining at once.

“Wait.” Bryce waved his arms to silence everyone. “You all watched and listened as Gaby and I took our vows. As you saw, there was nothing to it.”

“You’re a barrister,” Wilson muttered. “You’re good at talkin’. I’m a gardener. I’m not.”

“Wilson, the words come from your heart, just as the feelings do,” Gaby said softly. “I assure you that anyone can say them.” Seeing his skeptical expression, she shot a pleading look in Chaunce’s direction.

The butler rose from his card game. “I’m not a barrister, Wilson. Will it reassure you if I show you how it’s done?”

Wilson looked as if he wanted to kiss Chaunce, who was unofficially but undeniably the male head of the family. “You’d do that for me?”

“Certainly.” Clearing his throat, Chaunce walked solemnly down the aisle, positioning himself in front of Vicar Kent.

“Now what?” Goodsmith called out.

“Now I await the bride.”

Marion let out a whimper. “How do I know how fast to walk? Or how slow? How do I take the proper steps?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I shall demonstrate.” She glanced at Thane. “Since Chaunce is acting the part of the bridegroom and can’t fill his role as escort, would you mind ushering me down the aisle?”

A chuckle. “My pleasure.”

“Now watch—Marion, Ruth.” Taking Thane’s arm, Hermione walked sedately down the aisle, placing one foot in front of the other as she made her way toward Chaunce. “Just look straight ahead and take measured steps. That way you won’t trip or fall. All right?”

“All right.” Marion’s brow furrowed as she watched Thane turn Hermione over to Chaunce. “And now?”

“Now comes my part,” Vicar Kent advised her. “I read as follows …” He recited the ceremony, substituting Chaunce’s and Hermione’s names for those of the brides and grooms.

“Reginald?” Lily piped up in surprise. “I didn’t know Chaunce’s name was Reginald.”

“I didn’t know Chaunce
had
a name,” Henry whispered loudly.

“Of course he has a name,” Peter explained. “Everyone has a name. Reginald is his given name, Chaunce his surname.”

“Shhh,” Jane hissed. “This is the good part. I remember from Gaby and Bryce’s wedding.”

They all fell silent, listening as Hermione and Chaunce exchanged vows, demonstrating to the others how it was done. The vicar dug in his pocket, producing a spare ring he evidently kept for emergencies like this one.

Chaunce slipped the ring on Hermione’s finger.

There was a brief moment of quiet.

Then Hermione turned to face the room. “So you see? There’s really nothing—”

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Vicar Kent trumpeted proudly. He waited for one long, patient moment, then gave Chaunce a gentle nudge. “You may kiss your bride,” he said with a meaningful glance at Hermione.

“Pardon me?” Chaunce inquired.

“I said, you may kiss your bride.” A broad grin. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”

“Vicar …” Hermione inclined her head in his direction. “What on earth are you—”

“I’m marrying you two,” he replied, “as I’ve wanted to do for years. Correction: I’ve just married you. Now you must kiss and greet your well-wishers.”

Both Hermione and Chaunce stared, stupefied, from the vicar to each other, to the roomful of people all gazing expectantly at them.

“Go ahead, Chaunce,” Thane urged. “We’ve awaited this day with bated breath—nearly as eagerly as the two of you have.”

“And a good deal more impatiently,” Gaby chided good-naturedly. “Honestly, at least Bryce and I had the good sense to realize we’d fallen in love. How long did you intend to ignore the obvious?”

“On the other hand, your dawdling did give us the opportunity to concoct this splendid plan,” Bryce pointed out. “We accomplished two great feats in one: uniting two people who were made for each other
and
affording ourselves the pleasure of outdoing the masters.” His lips twitched. “Surrender, you two. You’ve been bested. Our match is as well-devised as yours, and as cleverly and secretly arranged.
But
we accomplished it without feigning a need for medication—rather, lemon water—or inventing guardianships. We found something more effective than either: our family.” He made a grand sweep with his arm, indicating all the scheming conspirators now beaming at the gaping bride and groom. “A remarkable group of actors, wouldn’t you say?” Bryce’s teeth gleamed.

Hermione’s dazed glance darted from Wilson and Goodsmith to Marion and Ruth. “You mean you didn’t … you weren’t … you aren’t …” She never finished her sentence.

Everyone understood nonetheless, and a rumble of laughter reverberated through the room.

Marion answered for the four of them. “Quite the contrary. Yesterday, during our
real
practice ceremony, Ruth and Wilson spoke their vows with not a single stammer, George flourished my wedding ring in one smooth motion, and I walked down the aisle without so much as a wobble. So, no, ma’am, we didn’t want your help. What we wanted was your happiness.”

Hermione’s lips trembled as the reality of what was happening slowly began to sink in. Her misty gaze drifted over the group, settling on Bryce and Gaby. “You knew about the medicine, about the guardianship—about everything?”

A broad grin split Bryce’s face. “Aren’t you the one who insists that I have a brilliant legal mind? What kind of barrister would I be if I couldn’t recognize manipulation and deduce its objective?” He wrapped an arm about Gaby’s waist. “An incomparably flawless objective, I might add. As for my wife here, she’s not only insightful, she never sleeps. Put the two together and you have a keen mind that’s perpetually in motion.”